


Love of my life

by hala_macaron



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: And my soul, Angst, God Ships Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Good Omens gave the lgbtq community E V E R Y T H I N G, Hurt/Comfort, I am incapable of not making this a little bit angsty, I love those two, Ineffable husbands everybody, Insecure Crowley (Good Omens), Love Confession, M/M, Queen - Freeform, Soulmates, and hey Freddie Mercury too, ineffable, it still hurts my heart, lots of queen, mentioned - Freeform, oh god somebody find me a soulmate my poetry only gets more yearning, ” you go too fast for me Crowley”
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 22:17:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20235262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hala_macaron/pseuds/hala_macaron
Summary: ‘ French lavender’, Crowley noted, swallowing tightly. ‘ Lavender is a symbol of love and devotion.’





	Love of my life

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write this for a long ass time and finally got around to it. Also, be warned, because I am very much incapable of not making this angsty and dramatic. They have been pining after each other for such a long time, so this had to be a bit dramatic xD

If anyone had ever watched Aziraphale - and some people surely must have, because humans tended to stare at everything and everyone, and Aziraphale was, well, Aziraphale- then they’d know that the principality _adored_ earthly pleasures.

Music, for one. He especially came to enjoy the soft tunes Mr. Ludovico Einaudi created, as well as the music of that lovely fellow Yiruma - Crowley had learned how to play the piano sometime in 2009, but Aziraphale hadn’t known of it until 2011, when they were drunk one evening in the principality’s bookshop and Crowley had insisted to play “ River flows in you” on the piano because “ You will love it Angel, trussst me”-, though he didn’t mind the occasional pop song either.

Dancing was also an activity he found joy in, although he had to admit that he was certainly not as gifted as Crowley was.

The only dance Aziraphale had ever been able to master was the Gavotte, and even though he would dance it every day for, well, eternity, if he could, he sometimes envied the smooth way Crowley seemed to master every dance he was interested in. Perhaps he could encourage his black clad friend to teach him a thing or two, now that they were on their own side.

Books were by far one of Aziraphale’s most beloved pleasures the earth had invented. A quite clever way to store knowledge and such colourful imagination indeed. He never grew tired of reading them, even the one’s he already knew by heart. There was always a new angle to look at the written word, and he truly behaved like a child on Christmas whenever he found one. He told Crowley when he did, over dinner, and Crowley listened, even asked questions and got into a discussion with the angel about how one could interpret this sentence or that word.

They were never heated discussions, never competitive. They did not care if there was a right, and if there was, they did not care who had found it.

What Aziraphale probably loved best about all the clever clever things humanity had invented and established, was food. Quirky little restaurants and romantic cafés, fancy and elegant dinners at the Ritz or the newest Michelin Star establishment, it barely mattered to him. Food was as much art as the paintings of good Vincent Van Gogh, and there were so many talented artists out there, that Aziraphale felt giddy with the knowledge that he could try everything to his hearts content, now that he did not have to watch out for Gabriel at every door.

In short, Aziraphale loved food.

Well, that much Crowley knew. Had known since fucking Rome, actually, when the angel had invited him to oysters. Ah, no, what had Aziraphale said? _Tempt_ him. Aziraphale had wanted to **tempt** him to oysters. Crowley still grinned at the memory of it. The poor angel had looked so embarrassed when he had realised what he’d said. It had been endearing.

Really, if Crowley hadn’t been so far gone for the angel already, he probably would have fallen in love that very day. But alas, he had fallen in love with his angel that fateful day in Eden, when God had cast Adam and Eve out for eating an apple Crowley had tempted them to. He had loved his angel the moment Aziraphale had told him he gave away the flaming sword given to him by the Almighty without an ounce of hesitation, simply because it was the right thing to do.

Crowley’s lips twitched at the corners. Yes, his angel had been extraordinary, from the first moment they had met each other, and would be the same way for the ( hopefully) peaceful eternity that was to come.

There was only a slight, teeny tiny, very small, crumb sized problem that Crowley had with his angel. His angel wasn’t exactly…_his_ angel.

And wasn’t that pathetic? Crowley had never not loved Aziraphale, but had he ever opened his blasted mouth and said a single thing? No. So why would he deserve to cry and whimper about not being able to be with Aziraphale in that way? They were friends, best friends, and that should be enough.

After all, Aziraphale had made very clear what he thought of anything more than fraternising with him, back when he’d given him the holy water.

_You go too fast for me, Crowley_

And hadn’t that hurt like a bitch. But it was alright, really, tickety boo, because now that the ragnarok-oh-wait-it’s-not had passed, they could hang out as much as they pleased. They could be friends out in the open, without having to worry about heaven and hell.

And friends…friends wanted to make each other happy, didn’t they? Because that’s what they deserved, that’s what Aziraphale deserved. To be happy, and, and to have his eyes shine like someone had decided to put stars into the blue of an ocean. To smile that amazing smile of his, all sunlight and warmth and joy so pure humans would never have the ability to describe it.

That’s what Crowley wanted for Aziraphale, pure happiness. Hence why he stood in his kitchen, sprinkles of white flour all over his black clothes, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and sunglasses carelessly thrown onto the couch.

Aziraphale loved food, so Crowley was going to bake for him.

Which was an easy idea to have, and a hard one to execute. Because while Crowley knew what Aziraphale liked, what in the name of every dumbass in hell would make him smile like that? Smile that special smile that Crowley adored, which made anyone in the direction of that smile feel like they were witnessing something divine. That smile that seemed to light up the world, and faintly made Freddie Mercury’s “ Good old fashioned lover boy” ring in the depths of Crowley’s mind(1).

In the end, he settled on making simple spaghetti carbonara, and baking an apple pie with cinnamon crumbs on top. He didn’t know if it would be up to Aziraphale’s standard, because while to Crowley it tasted good, he didn’t know what it would taste like to someone who practically wrote poetry about every bite he took.

Critically looking at the table and at the food he was serving, doubts spread like fire on dry grass in Crowley’s mind. This simply…it simply wasn’t good enough!

Oh blast it he was an idiot. What exactly was he hoping to accomplish here? Serenading Aziraphale with some cheap food that anyone could make? _Shit, shit, shit, shit, shitshitshitshitshit_

The plants in Crowley’s apartment began shaking, recognising the waves of emotion coming from their master in a harsh and completely unforgiving way. This wasn’t good, and it probably would end equally not good for them if something happened tonight that was bad.

There was a knock on the door, and time seemed to stop. The plants stopped shaking, and Crowley’s carousel of stomping his self worth came to a halt with a shriek.

“ Crowley, dear, it’s me. I would let myself in, but I’m afraid I cannot open the door. Would you let me in, my dear boy?” Aziraphale’s voice was soft, albeit a bit muffled, as if he spoke through something.

Crowley nodded dazedly, before realising that the angel couldn’t see him. “ Ah, yes, yes I’ll be right there!” He ran for the door, only stopping short to glare at his plants in the most intimidating way he could muster when his nerves were fluttering like little nightingales. “ Behave. If I see any of you slacking off in performance for him, I’ll do so much worse to you than to all the others.”

Satisfied with the way his plants were trying to make themselves as presentable as ever, he opened the door and was promptly greeted by a face full of French lavender, carried by none other than his angel, who was beaming as he stepped through the door.

“ Thank you, dearest, I did not expect to have to carry this lovely darling with both hands.” Aziraphale explained sheepishly, briefly gazing down at the plant in his arms before holding it out to Crowley with a smile that reminded the demon of a sunset over the sea, breathtaking and a promise of a beautiful night.

“ For you, dear boy. I did think that some lavender would look nice, and the purple goes so very well with your hair too!”

‘ French lavender’, Crowley noted, swallowing tightly. ‘ Lavender is a symbol of love and devotion.’

He must have made some sort of movement with his face, because Aziraphale’s smile fell a bit, a frown taking its place. “ Oh no, was that the wrong plant? Silly me, I thought lavender was a good choice…forgive me dear, I didn’t mean…”

Crowley cut him off quickly, clutching the lavender to his chest in the hopes of calming his nerves and his heart a bit. “ No! No, nononono, angel, this is...it’s perfect! Don’t you dare to apologise, it’s amazing!” His voice grew softer, smaller, as he said the next words, avoiding Aziraphale’s eyes. “ I love it.”

The angel was positively glowing. “ I’m very glad you do, dear, I am very glad indeed.”

Half an hour, some compliments on the food from Aziraphale, and stuttered thanks from Crowley later, the angel set down his fork with a sigh, although there was half of the piece of cake left. In Crowley’s head, alarm bells stated ringing, but before he could ask what was wrong, Aziraphale beat him to it.

“ My dear boy, I would like to ask you something, and I would like you to be very brave for me and tell me the truth. Can you do that?” His angel’s voice was kind, soft, encouraging. A blanket of ‘ you’re safe with me, you can trust me’, so Crowley nodded.

“ Dear, are you in love with me?”

Air was being sucked out of the room, out of Crowley’s lungs, and even though he didn’t need it, he longed to have it back because he couldn’t breathe. He wanted to crack a smirk, to sit back with a lazy posture and tell the angel in the most suave way that he’d love to know where the angel got that idea.

He couldn’t.

He couldn’t lie, not to Aziraphale, not to his everything, his sunshine, his warmth, his shooting stars and moon. He couldn’t lie to his world, his home. To this stunning, wonderful person that made him want to move mountains to make room for enough flowers to drape Aziraphale in and show everyone how much good there could be, because Aziraphale was good. Aziraphale was good, he was everything and then some. And he had asked him to be brave, so he would be.

Staring straight at Aziraphale, shaking like a leaf, he pushed through the anxiety of answering and chocked on that one word.

“ Yes.” And as soon as that was out, he couldn’t stop. “ Yes, fucking…fucking hell, angel, yes I am in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for 6000 years and I have no intention to stop. And I know you don’t…I never said anything because I, I, I didn’t want this to put a strain on our friendship. I didn’t…”

“ Oh no, dearest.” Aziraphale looked stricken, moving quickly from his seat to stand before Crowley, grabbing him and burying him inside his arms, face pressed against his tummy.

Holding him, combing his fingers through his beloved demon’s hair and slightly massaging his scalp. “ Listen to me, darling. Nothing, there is nothing you could ever say to put a strain on us, do you hear me? Nothing. My darling, my brightest star, love of my life, my existence…”

He pulled back, holding Crowley’s face in his hands, tilting his head and forcing yellow eyes to meet his own. “ Do you hear me, Crowley?_ I love you.”_

“ But…but you said, you said I go too fast for you.” Crowley didn’t particularly like how his voice broke, but he was still wrapped up in his angel’s warmth, a safe haven. He would have loved to just take what he was given, but he needed to know.

Aziraphale's face contorted as if he was in pain. “ My darling boy, I did say that. But I wasn’t denying you, or my love for you. Crowley,”, he took the demon’s hands in his, brought the knuckles up to his lips and kissed them.

“ I had given you a thermos of the holiest water I could find. I thought that when the morning would come, that I would have lost you. That the sun had risen in a world without you, and that thought alone was worse than burning in hellfire would have been. I trusted you, I will always trust you, but I…the thought of you not being there anymore was terrifying, and if I couldn’t have dealt with the pain that came with it, I would have broken under the pain had we been attached to each other even more.”

“ You were scared.” Muttered Crowley, eyes understanding, bright with tears. It made sense, and they had danced around it. “ I’m sorry angel, I didn’t want to scare you.”

“ You are forgiven, my dear. But please, don’t do it again.” Aziraphale answered, devotion shining in his eyes as Crowley stood and laced their fingers together.

_You will remember_

_ When this is blown over _

_Everything’s all by the way _

_When I grow older _

_I will be there at your side to remind you_

_ How I still love you ( I still love you)_

“ Do all your electronic devices love Queen this much, my love?”

Crowley chuckled in response. “ It seems they do angel.”

He hummed, eyes trained on their interlaced hands before glancing at his, finally and truly his, angel. “ How does eternity sound to you, angel?”

“ Perfect, my love. Eternity sounds just perfect.”

If anyone had asked God for advice, or even just instructions that night, she dismissed them without a glance in their direction.

She was busy, smiling down at the unlikely, perfect pair of angel and demon, swaying to ‘ Love of my life’ and later on, ‘ Good old fashioned lover boy’, as well as ‘ Somebody to love’, which the demon’s radio seemed to play on repeat.

Love might not have been a pleasure born on earth, but she was sure that out of everything the universe had to offer, love and Crowley were Aziraphale’s most treasured things.

And Aziraphale was by far Crowley’s favourite thing to exist. She did not need any music to possibly compare. It had been like this for 6000 years, and they had eternity now.

Two impossibly bright stars, and they would not fly without the other.

(1) Freddie had sent Crowley a note when the song had been finished. All it had said was “ I got inspired listening to you ramble, darling. Go get your man, and tell him how you feel.”

**Author's Note:**

> I made myself cry while writing this. Did I maybe project a bit from when I write my poetry and it turns out to be about love? Maybe.


End file.
